Alone in the universe

At the end of the day, every man is an island unto himself. Even as we are surrounded by family, strangers, friends, enemies, whoever, there is no one who ever truly understands another entirely. Which is what drove Agastya Sen to his peculiar state of mind in that classic book, English, August (recommended to those of you who haven't already read it). Anyway, wrong road to go down on, since this post is about something quite different.

A couple of weeks ago, thanks to the Hubble Space Telescope, scientists spotted a planet, called HD 189733b, 63 light years away which has carbon dioxide and water vapour in its atmosphere. These are both among organic compounds referred to as chemical biotracers of life, and scientists are really excited at this discovery, since it means a big step in the the process of trying to find extraterrestrial life.

I have to say, I find it quite fascinating, the methods these scientists use to arrive at conclusions about the existence of one particle of carbon dioxide among a million random particles 63 light years away. It shows that some of us are actually pretty smart, and that even with our limited means of observation, we can still make some fantastic conclusions. So far, so good.

Oh, on a similar note, the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter has also found carbonates, evidence for a water environment capable of supporting life on the red planet. And the scientists say that there are increased possibilities, as a consequence of this find, that life did start on Mars at some point.

Of course, if they manage to prove the existence of life anywhere else in the universe at any point of time, it will be a welcome slap in the face for most religions that advocate man as the favourite creation of god, given the earth to plunder as he liked. But there is another aspect of this issue, a scientific one, that bothers me slightly.

While I totally laud the work done by these astronomers and the associated scientific faculty to find evidence of extra-terrestrial life, I can't help but criticise the assumption that these same people make about organic life being the only possible life form. I know its a start, and a sensible one at that, given our own limitations not just of observation, but even of thought. But all the same, I somehow expect the scientific community to rise beyond its own philosophical limitations. May be it is too much to ask for.

In the meanwhile, here's to anal-probing aliens!

A little joy, and the usual sack of complaints

The reason for this small joy, believe it or not, has to do with Facebook! I never had thought I would one day say I am actually happy at some development to do with one of these social networking websites, but I stand humbled.

A Gordon Poyser and Carmel Corbo of Canberra were served a foreclosure notice for their home by their mortgage lender through - you guessed it - Facebook. And the Aussie court in question was nice and wise enough to uphold the method used as valid. If you want to read the details, go here:

http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/A/AS_AUSTRALIA_FACEBOOK?SITE=MOSTP&SECTION=HOME&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT

Its hard to express how much I enjoyed reading it. Especially the bit in the article where someone says people don't join Facebook thinking of it as another means through which the government or debt collectors can contact them. Or the bit where someone else raises the question of how Facebook users envision the site being used. Take those two and contrast that with the website's spokesperson comments, who says the company is pleased. Hahahahaha! Fucking brilliant, if you ask me. Served those Facebook suckers right to be served on Facebook. Oh, I do hope that many thousands and millions such cases happen soon, and such "social" spaces start including aspects of society other than socialising.

And yes, any of you who want to charge me with indulging in schadenfreude, please, by all means, be my guest!

As for the complaints, I am still stuck on Pakistan, our errant sibling. Well, actually, I am also feeling considerable ire towards Arundhati Roy in a related matter, but that deserves a post to itself. Talking of Pakistan, it makes me wonder what its people think of its actions or words, given the awe-inspiring inconsistencies in the nature of those actions or words.

So first a 'defence analyst' called Zaid Hamid blames an international conspiracy, which includes "Western Zionists, Israeli Zionists and Hindu Zionists" (go figure), for the recent terrorist strike in Bombay, adding helpfully also that Indians were too incompetent to pull it off, messed up the whole operation and hence the dead 'terrorists' etc. Now a lawyer called CM Farooque claims that the lone arrested terrorist was actually picked up in Nepal by Indian agencies with the help of Nepali forces in 2006, along with about 200 other Pakistanis on business trips to Nepal, for the specific purpose of being implicated in such Mumbai-like incidents. Yes, we are suddenly a lot more capable than Mr Defence Analyst would like. But this lawyer, I really need to know where the hashish he is smoking comes from.

Pakistan claims that 2 fighter jets of the Indian Air Force violated its air space last week. Then their President Mr Zardari and a spokesman for their Air Force, both say a day later that it was a "technical incursion" which was "made by mistake". India denies any such thing ever happened. Pakistan sticks to its guns. Now, Pakistan has lodged a formal protest with India about the matter, and is seeking an explanation. An explanation about something that you have yourself already described as a mistake and a technicality? Come on, don't you have more important things to do?!

Also last week, Pakistan's defence minister said during a TV interview that Maulana Masood Azhar (a terrorist who was released from an Indian jail in exchange for a plane-full of hostages) had been placed under house arrest but would not be handed over to India. And today, their high commissioner to India, Shahid Malik, says that he is not just not under house arrest, but is in fact not even in Pakistan. You don't know for sure where one person is, and you say you don't need help taking down terrorist camps?

Ah, the list goes on. There are many aspects I haven't even touched upon, such as the comments made by Mr Zardari, and how they stand compared to other officials from his country, or the various reports in various media outlets, and of course, the official endorsement or rejection of them, as per convenience, and the all important distinction between voiced intentions and actual actions. Its true that contradictions of such nature exist everywhere in the world. But to indulge in them so blatantly when the spotlight of the world is shining bright in your face, that takes something. Either big balls of titanium, or a big dose of blind stupidity. But then again, putting on two faces simultaneously has always come easy to Pakistan.

Antisociality

Every now and then, I am affected by a largely inexplicable bout of the desire to be antisocial, or rather, to not be social. Given my usual gregarious nature, it takes me by somewhat of a surprise and I am compelled to search for a plausible reason for my behaviour that seems unusual to my self.

Tonight, for instance, my office is hosting its annual Christmas party at Pacha, a posh club that I wouldn't otherwise think about going to, on account of the ethereal priciness. This being an office party, free alcohol will flow freely all night. All I have to do is show up, head to the bar and drink my fill. But the more I think about getting out of bed, taking a shower or even just brushing my hair or whatever else, to look at least somewhat 'presentable', the more I think about why I should do it.

My office is not the worst place I have been in, and the people there are not bad per se. But that doesn't mean they are enchanting company. The few who I have managed to engage in a conversation that is not about work, well, it is usually only a matter of time when they go white or red in the face at something I would say, and then remember some urgent piece of work that needs immediate attention. Or they would laugh, merely to hide their acute discomfort at some opinion I voiced, and they would throw in a few muttered words, something like "wow, isn't that harsh?" or "we will agree to disagree." The few times I have been drinking with office folks, the conversation (usually depending on who is talking) ventures in the never-tired direction of office gossip, bitching about bosses and colleagues, etc OR in to these gaps of awkward silences that follow right after something I said, which in turn will be broken by an "OOOOOOKAAAAAY" and then some random chatter in the aforementioned direction.

So, why then should I go for this thing tonight? Is free alcohol reason enough? When I was a 'poor' college student (sometimes I truly wonder how I got by those days...), I would probably show up for anything that associated with the word 'free'. Well, not anything... but all the same, I did do a few random things for freebies. When I was interning with a newspaper, I would volunteer to cover press conferences even if it meant a couple of hours of travel. While other interns clamoured to get stories published with their by-lines, I was piling my plate with the free food at the end of the conference. If I got a by-line, well, that was a bonus.

So anyway, I can buy my food now, all I can eat and even some to waste if I like. Same goes for alcohol. The word 'free' in general has lost its importance, when pitted against the hassle involved in obtaining whatever the freebie is. The hassle could be physical, mental, whatever, its just not worth it.

There are two other social engagements I could involve myself in tonight, and both of those are with friends. But I am quite disinclined to do that as well. My reasoning? If I have to meet my friends, eventually to get drunk, I might as well do that without spending any money at my office party. Talk about contradictions!

So this is what I figured... the combination of doing the same things with the same people is what is putting me off doing those things with those people, even if I in fact don't mind either indulging in those things or the company of those people. (There is ONE exception to that rule, a very special case, involving carnal pleasures with one specific girl that I will never tire of.) Much as I don't like long periods of 'alone-time', I had rather be by myself tonight. Suddenly, household chores seem so much more appealing! Or maybe I will write some more...

Bomb-ay Bomb-ay

Compared to other recent terrorist activities in India, the latest carnage in Mumbai is different in at least two striking ways. One, the audacious methodology used. Two, the targets' profile. But I am not about to spend time analysing either, since anyone who is interested probably already knows at least as much as I do. One way or the other, this has become quite a hot potato, one that's sure to burn a few fingers, and mouths too.

On India's part, it is not so much an intelligence failure as is being made out. Enough warning bells seem to have been rung, mostly ignored by the administration. Some figurative heads have already rolled, and who knows what price the electorate will extract, come election time (for once, the middle classes may have actually been jolted enough to care to use their vote properly). But once we are done blaming and maiming those who were meant to be responsible for the prevention of such incidents, two things are needed. One, ensuring a better prevention mechanism. Two, bringing the perpetrators to book.

Countries like the USA and UK have enacted strict laws in recent times to counter the threat of terror, and that has resulted in the curtailing of civil liberties. In recent discussions in Indian media, I heard many ordinary citizens saying they don't mind giving up some rights if it does indeed ensure their safety at large. Personally though, the idea makes me a bit uncomfortable. I mean, one of the things I hate about London is the ever-present CCTVs, just like I hate having to take off my shoes, etc at Heathrow. But I will try keep personal opinions on living in an Orwellian state out of this for the moment.

The USA and UK don't share borders with traditionally hostile countries. The US border with Mexico, despite the former's best efforts, is still porous enough for large amounts of drugs and immigrants from the latter to cross over illegally every year. The drugs come for consumption (and as long as they are of good quality, really, no one should complain) and the immigrants come for work. Whether legal or not, they are doing little harm (yes, drugs can harm if used irresponsibly, but that's the user's fault, not the drug's). Now, if Pakistan was sending quality drugs in to India, boy oh boy, would it make for a sweeter planet! Manpower... hmm... we already have too many people, but yea, sure, we always have had a reputation of being accommodating. Instead, we have had three full blown wars, one smaller one, and more than two decades of a proxy-war in the name of Kashmir's liberation.

If you target the bases where terror perpetrators operate from, don't you prevent terror activities by default? If Pakistan is serious about fighting terror, and actually feels victimised by terrorism as it claims to, why does it constantly refuse to clean up its act? In between its government, ISI, army and Islamists, it has yet to make a single real noteworthy step towards showing its commitment to the cause. And this is not about the recent Mumbai attacks alone, even if India has enough evidence to implicate Pakistani complicity in the affair.

What about Lashkar-e-Taiba which has been banned for being a terrorist organisation? Why are its operatives still roaming free within Pakistan? Why is the US using drones to attack positions inside Pakistan's boundaries? What about the evidence showing ISI's involvement in the blast at the Indian embassy in Kabul? I could go on, but the point is, if there are so many accusations against Pakistan, maybe the country's administration should stop saying that the world is conspiring against it. The world has other priorities, you know. If it weren't for George Bush, it would be a far more isolated country today.

Argh! This post has gone a bit all over the place. There is so much to say... bits in Pakistani media that are positively insane, some Indian politicians who deserve lynching... screw it. I will just say this... I can't wait to see India's response, and I hope that for a change, its not a soft one. After all, its fashionable to use 'change' and 'Obama' in the same sentence, and he did say that India has the "right to protect" itself.

Talking to breasts

For those of you who may not be sure what the title of this post refers to, I thought I had add a picture to clarify. For those of you who were pretty sure, its for aesthetic value. Credit for photograph to some dude's MySpace page who obviously trawls the Internet for such pictures.

Much has been made about where exactly a guy lets his eyes rest when talking to a woman. It seems that women tend to take issue to men who look them a few inches below the face.

Before I say anything more, I will say this. Women who like to show off their cleavage don't have the right to get offended by this. I mean, we men didn't ask you to show it off (whether we like it or not is a different matter altogether) and we are only looking, not touching, and if you hadn't been showing it, we probably wouldn't be looking either. And if you really are all that offended, then why are you showing it off in the first place? I mean, expecting us to not look at an intentionally exposed cleavage is akin to asking a lion to eat grass, not meat.

Another thing. This does NOT, categorically does NOT mean that all men stare. There are some who are gay. Or those who generally don't look at anything (the sorts who walk in to walls and manholes). No, seriously, there are some who just don't care enough to look. Also, just because someone is staring does not necessarily mean that he is doing it in some creepy perverse digusting way which includes vivid mental undressing and such. So please don't put us all in the same boat with that leering arsehole that you saw slobbering in the bus the other day. I dislike them as much as you do.

So I was saying... you hear with your ears, not your face. So in terms of the sound waves travelling, it doesn't matter whether we look at a face or breasts or wherever else, as long as we are not changing the relative positions of the speaking mouth and the listening ear. The argument "Pay attention to me, not my breasts" is hollow I think, since well, your breasts are a part of you, and just because they are being looked at does not mean that everything else is relegated to oblivion. You know, how you go to a museum and see some painting or sculpture or whatever else and start waxing bullshit about it to your friend(s), who mind you, is NOT in the painting or in the sculpture, which is where your eyes are focused for the most part. But that surely does not mean that you are not paying attention to your friend!

The museum makes me think also of aesthetics. Aesthetic appreciation, maybe thats all it is? You know, consider the possibility at least... It is a very real possibility too.

But more than museum, think of the example of going shopping for say, a new dress, or a pair of shoes, or whatever else you women want to buy. Of course, you have taken at least one friend along to help you make those extremely difficult life changing earth shattering decisions - such as, which shade of pink? Anyway, so then, when you are rolling through the aisles and shuffling through the racks and shelves, where do you look, at your friend or the goodies? And does that reduce the importance of your friend's opinion, the mere fact that you are looking at the enamouring display in front of you?

What is wrong in talking to body parts other than the face anyway? I mean, why should you let the face hog all the glory? I know for certain that I won't mind it if some woman talked to this or that part of mine, though it will cause me to wonder why she is doing it. With women, its difficult to tell why they do the things they do, since I sometimes think women aren't sure themselves. However, ladies, when we do it, its quite simple enough. Take it as a compliment. And unless told otherwise, leave it at that.

The nature of the past

So there are the tenses - past, present and future. There is the idea of the linear movement of time, and things before now - this very moment - are collectively called the past. But what exactly is the past for each one of us, as an individual? I am not talking about collective histories, merely individual pasts.

Is it the entirety of what transpired? Or is it merely what our brains record AND remember of it? Or is it only that which we remember, even if more was recorded? Is it only that which others remember about our past, depending on what we tell them about it? Is the past unchanging, since technically, it should be? Or does it change, as does our memory of it and our association with our own actions from our past? Do things in the present affect things from the past?

If your boy/girlfriend who you love and care for happened to die unfortunately in a horrible accident, it will probably have a profound effect on your memories of the person. A lot of bad times would be forgotten and almost all the time formerly spent with the now deceased would turn in to one long joy ride that was rudely cut short by the demise. And if the same boy/girlfriend you love and care for happened to meet someone else instead and dumped you consequently, I suppose the effects will be quite substantial again, only in a quite different strain. Many good times will be forgotten and the bad ones magnified, and the former object of affection will be turned in to something akin to a veritable monster, a heartless slimeball.

How often do we actively, consciously change our own memory of the past to fit it in with our present, or even the future? To avoid pangs of guilt, to smooth over glaring contradictions in our own personalities, to forget unpleasantness, to sidestep potential depression, or any of the many other reasons that can be thought of?

So all this fiddling with the past, does it mean we are being un-true to ourselves? Is being untrue that big a deal anyway? Or is truth sacrificable at the altar of happiness? And if even the past can be full of holes, where does one find wholesomeness in life?

Ablutionary sounds

There is great variance in the human threshold for what can be termed gross. And I am not talking squeamish here, such as those people who feel nauseous at the mere sight of a drop of blood, for instance, even though it is quite related. What I am talking about is the phenomena that will occur to at least some people as they read the contents of this post.

How often have you seen a girl pick out a piece of tissue paper from the depths of her bag, bring it up to her pretty red nose and blow away, to rid her nasal passage of mucus that is blocking the path of air to her lungs, and to avoid the snot from dribbling on to her upper lip, and to also perhaps not sniffle for the next couple of minutes? Often enough, I am sure, though not necessarily with the same thoughts in mind that I have just mentioned. Either way, does it seem like a 'gross' thing to happen? Have you ever seen it happening while you are in a restaurant or a cafeteria, eating duck confit or munching on a sandwich? And at that time, have you been grossed out by the poor girl suffering from common cold, enough to be put you off your meal? Why should the noise of someone blowing their nose at the sink in the bathroom gross out someone else sipping beer in the living room?

What about burping? Better still, breaking wind, or farting, as it is more commonly known? Things both that generate cries like "ewww! gross!!" and expressions that involve wrinkled noses (even if their is no smell whatsoever) and furrowed brows and mouths twisted in the most ridiculous shapes. Keep those gases in your stomach long enough, and poof! internal combustion, you explode from within. Well, not really explode, but all that gas pressure build up surely can't be good for your innards. Don't know about you, but I had rather fart any day. Anyone who says they never farted is either a liar or a freak of nature. And given a choice between lying or being a freak, I had rather let one rip any day.

These are perfectly natural sounds, like that of a cough or a sneeze or a gasp or a sigh or a moan or a groan or whatever else you want to think of. Every single person in the whole world makes them. Yes, girls fart and I don't know why some men like to harbour the stupid illusion that they don't. And yes, for the record, they stink too. A lot. And if you have a problem with the stink, thats quite alright to do. But if its with the fart itself, fuck man, get real.

I was ticked off down this track while reading about a gadget called Otohime, commonly found in women's toilets across Japan. Japanese women admitted to using the flush constantly while they were on the toilet, whether taking a piss or a dump, to avoid the embarrassment they would otherwise feel if anyone outside heard any of the sounds emanating from inside. Seems very strange to me how a cultural almost obsessed with its toilets has such a prudish attitude attached to the sounds that emerge from within, even if its limited to the women. Perhaps a new case for the feminists? Hahahaha! So anyway, this constant flushing was wasting a fuck load of water all over anime land, and enter the Sound Princess, English for Otohime. This device simulates the sound of a flush and thus effectively drowns out the ablutionary sounds that are the cause for these strange discomfort with our own bodily functions, hence saving a lot of water which was being used to flush away noise.

Why are people in so many parts of the world brought up to be ashamed of their bodies or its natural functions? The kind of things I have talked about is in the exact same vein as girls hitting puberty being told that menstruation is a shameful and bad thing. You hold that belief today and you will be called a moronic relic from the Dark Ages, and that is if they are being polite. And yet, how different are they to scoff at a fart here or a burp there? Why is spitting rude, unless does it as a mark of disrespect specifically? Why do I need to chew on my cud, so as to say, or even swallow it simply because your ideas of 'yucky' include too many things? Having said that, I can think of other things that some girls (to be fair, certain boys too) will happily swallow while others will get grossed out at the mere mention.

If you don't like the smell of something, be it shit or piss or saliva or ejaculate or whatever else, even some flower, maybe a rose, it is totally understandable that you have a problem with it. But even there, oh well, I wonder how many of you own pet dogs and I don't wonder what their breaths smell like, and I am sure you still love it when they slobber all over your face. Never mind the smell, its so cute! Yeah, sure, whatever, fuck you too. Still, if you have a problem with the smell, fine, I understand. But the sound? The sound of a fart... how can that be offensive to your senses, objectively? Its usually either a squeak or on a good day, like a bit of a drum roll, or on better days, like thunder. How can any of those sounds offend unless you have let yourself be conditioned to get grossed out by them? The worst farts anyway are those known as SBD's, or Silent But Deadly.

So go ahead, lighten up, have someone pull your finger and let one out. Make your day better by making someone else laugh. And if they get grossed out instead, your day got so much better! And of course, if you even remotely went "ewww" at any point while reading this, provided you got all the way to here, thanks for making my day a whole lot better! Here is a loud thundery one for good measure!

PPPHHKKDDDKKKPPPDDDHFFPPPKKKKKPPPKKKKKDDDDDD!!

Territorial pissings

A common practice used by animals of many species to demarcate their territory. Leave a scent of your piss around an area to tell other animals to keep away. Protect your territory. Territorial integrity. For humans, we have the law to uphold for us what is rightfully ours, entitled to us by the same law. But what about disputes over territory that the law is ambiguous about, to say the least, such as in the case of national boundaries? What about the cases where the law, whatever it may be, is thrown to the wind with as much care as using a sledgehammer to crack open a walnut?

Many of the modern nation states were often artificially created, whether carved out from larger areas or put together from smaller ones, and have been a problematic issue ever since they arrived on the world stage en masse. Three cases in this year have brought this matter to the fore yet again; Kashmir, Kosovo, and South Ossetia, all three with their unique-ish characteristic.

What strikes me most, at the level of international politics, about the recent 'war' between Russia and Georgia is once again the double standards of the usual hypocrites. Why was this notion of territorial integrity shown the proverbial door when Serbia made a hue and cry about Kosovo tearing itself out from the mainland? Most of the West welcomed the move almost, with arms wide open and the thinly veiled threat of refusal of EU membership to keep Serbian protesting to the minimum. The western countries can afford to do this because they have relative security in their own backyards, while they have spent decades sowing seeds of strife all around the world, wherever things were not the way they were comfortable with. From the days of the World Wars to Vietnam and down to Afghanistan, if you know the history of wars, I don't need to elaborate. Notable exceptions to the acknowledgement of Kosovo's independence were Russia, China and India (for reasons that could be called obvious), and the three countries also released a joint statement in the favour of Serbia and its territorial integrity that the west likes to tom-tom about, when of course, it is convenient to do so.

That is not to say that Russia, China or India behave any differently. But there is lesser dualism, so as to say. There is lesser overt tugging at the strings of the smaller nations, and rather, more overt display of things as they are. The West tries to appear, like its favourite sacrificial lamb from two millenia ago, the messiah who has good intentions towards all and sundry, even those who stone and curse him. And much like the so-called son of god, they also like to set the tone of what is morally right and whats abominably wrong. Now that I think of it like this, one can hardly blame them. They have been like that ever since that stupid carpenter became famous as the saviour among their ancestors. Countries like Russia and China on the other hand don't try to pass off as goody-two-shoes, and I think somewhere within their psyches, western leaders feel sort of impotent at not having the balls to behave the same way. Victims of their own self imposed notions of morality that they try to impose on others too. Fucking arse-wipes.

Since there is much too much to say about the ape otherwise known as George Bush, I will leave him alone for now. David Miliband makes a statement asking Russia to not start another Cold War. Since the first version of it ended with the collapse of USSR, will someone please explain to me the logic of not just maintaining but actually expanding NATO? What the fuck is that about? You tell the world to take it easy, to lay back, unwind, chill out, while you go on a cocaine-fuelled high speed adrenaline-pumping rampage all over the place. Sure, the world should just sit back and take it, because you are the descendents of the stupid carpenter/lamb who is just taking one for the gang, eh? If for every hypocritical act of the West, someone donated a dollar to alleviate hunger in Africa, all those malnourished black kids would probably beat the Americans at obesity. Hypocrisy served with a sense of absolute righteousness, and since its absolute, no one else can be right. Beats even mutual back scratching. Truly genius.

I am too pissed off to write any more. I think I will go take a piss.

Gay-dom and Christianity

My inherent laziness (not something I am proud of, but not ashamed of either) struck long and hard once again. But I have at least one more valid excuse for the long gap between this post and the last one. A new job that has 12 hour long shifts. And I have done more than my fair share of shifts till now because I am being trained. And this has been the first real break I have had. Anyway, this is not about my job.

So the institution of the Church has been shaken up again recently by Gene Robinson, the first openly gay priest. If you ask me, he likes to fuck other men (or boys) and is open about it, which is a whole lot better than those other hypocritical perverts who take advantage of young choir boys singing the lord's praise, while denouncing the decaying moral fibre of society. I heard some of the arguments made by those in the Christian faith who are opposed to homosexuality. The most coherent one was about how the family and family life is the focus of the religion, and how therefore homosexuality does not find a place within it. And while understanding the need for tolerance, it was certainly highly improper that a religious authority be himself indulging in such non-familial behaviour.

I suppose it is for the same family values type reason that many religious figures of the same institution are also up in arms against the plan to appoint women bishops. The Vatican has expressed "regret" at the decision by the Church of England to ordain female bishops. If this is the kind of family that a religion propagates, my stance on religion is vindicated. For those of you who don't know that stance, well, religion is evil, and necessary only because we humans are a pathetic species.

A Lillian Ladele of London, a devout orthodox Christian, works as a registrar of marriages. At work, she refused to register gay marriages (she would ask one of her colleagues to swap with her) since they went against her fundamental religious beliefs. After a while, colleagues lodged a formal complaint with the management, who served her an ultimatum. She filed a case in the court (paid for by the Christian Institute) against the council she worked for, for discriminating against her on religious grounds. And she won the fucking case!!

In this light, I find it highly amusing that an Iranian man was recently trying to seek asylum in the UK (after his visa expired) on the grounds that he was gay and would be executed upon his return to Iran. Last I heard, they were not going to grant his wish... I wonder what became of him.

Deplorable stoners

There is getting stoned, and then, there are stoners. Obviously similar to the difference between those enjoy their tipple and those who are alcoholics, but not entirely similar. Let me try and explain.

I have often noted a strange sense of camaraderie about stoners. No, that's not quite it. It is more like, if I am standing somewhere and smoking a joint, and a stoner happens to come by, (s)he will usually assume that I am a cool chilled out laid back nice friendly dude. I may actually be all of those things, but that is certainly not a fair assumption to make on anyone's part. Stoners don't see a reason why non-smokers don't smoke, or how someone who smokes dope can still be an arsehole. Oh, they may say things from time to time that will sound abrasive towards other stoners, but put them in a room with strangers, where some are stoners and other are not, and see where they gravitate. Its like, the dope takes over many aspects of their personality.

Now I find this sort of behaviour missing among alcohol consumers, and I put that down to two things. One, the nature of intoxication itself. While alcohol is a well known depressant, there exists considerable variety in the effects caused by smoking marijuana or its derivatives, giggles, depression, paranoia, blah blah. Two, alcohol is a legal drug in most places in the world, as opposed to these friendly green plants which have been foolishly associated with many devilish phenomena and hence criminalised.

Without dwelling much on the psychological effects (since they are a highly subjective and personal matter, to say the least) of things, I will talk of the impact that legal status has. I was strangely elated to find in Amsterdam many smokers regarding other smokers with as much wariness as is due towards your regular stranger. I was heartened to see that there is a sizable number of dope smokers who do not assume some kind of unspoken bond with other smokers, supposing them all to be in some sort of a world wide weed smoking community where no one ever steals or wrongs his/her co-smoker.

Stoners will entertain other smokers even if they have nothing much to talk about, simply by dint of the fact that they share the consumption of weed, as if the fact alone were reason enough to call someone your friend and brother, and regard as cool and friendly. I hate, HATE, totally ABHOR the way some retard at some party will suddenly consider me his/her best friend and say stupid senseless things like, "we must be on the same wavelength" simply because I happen to be rolling a joint or some such. What the fuck do you know about my wavelength anyway, you fucking fake junkie?

I was gifted a t-shirt which has the print of a ganja leaf on it, with a caption that reads "keep off the grass". When wearing it and being out and about, I have received comments from people I meet and also from random people on the street about the t-shirt being cool. The common theme is that not one of them bothered to read the words right below the picture. One guy asked me to pose while he photographed it (without my face, how nice of him), another asked me if I could get him one. A guy in the street stopped me, first confirmed if it was a ganja leaf, then got ecstatic at the affirmation and began telling me how he smokes weed, a lot of weed. As I was walking with my friends, a girl in the street some months ago had screamed at least 6-7 times "nice top!" before I figured she was talking to me after she also screamed "hey ponytail!" Why is it cool just because it has a ganja leaf on it?

Someone needs to tell stoners that not everyone who smokes a spliff is like them. I smoke weed, and smoked a lot of it back in the day, but I am not a stoner. If only stoners saw the possibility of this fact existing... Its a bit like what Dave Chappelle said about black people hating niggers.

Climate statisticians

It's been on my mind for a couple of weeks now, but I never got down to writing about it. Not that climate change is anything new to write about. However, I was prompted by a study published in the journal Nature that was carried out by some German scientists. Their conclusive contention was that global warming, i.e., the rise of the temperature of our world, has not really happened at all in the last 10 years, and will not happen for another 10. Maybe they are right. Other detractors also say that temperature change on a global scale is anyway a cyclical phenomenon and there isn't really anything we humans can do to make any significant impact on it.

What are these people trying to say, or do? If they do not spend ALL their time indoors (and even then perhaps), it is quite impossible to have not noticed the changes in weather conditions, irrespective of the part of the world they live in. Seasons change later, or sooner, than they used to, they or colder or warmer than they were, rains and hail come when they want and increasingly not when they used to, and there seems to be a definite spurt in the events of extreme climatic occurrences. I mean, what are they looking for, for it to rain frogs and lizards?

Combined with that, of course, we are seeing severe food shortages in parts of the world, and food prices shooting up in many others. And let us not even start with the cost of oil products. $135 a barrel of crude says it all. Growing crops for biofuels is not a good solution because well, there is only so much arable land, and food is already on way to become a luxury. Renewable sources of energy have yet to come of age in a way big enough to replace even half of the current oil usage.

As a species, I suppose here is yet another example of paying a price for our short sightedness, stupidity, selfishness and avarice. Of course, we won't learn. And most of those who will pay the real price won't be the ones who caused the real damage to start with. Perhaps, nothing much will change. Considering the world has already coined terms like eco-terrorism, there is only so far these environmentalists can hope to go before it really is too late. Especially with articles like the one I mentioned above being published in reputed journals. I wonder who paid for this particular piece of 'research', which after all, will be a bunch of statistics. And statistics, as any sensible person knows, do not usually reflect an honest picture.

Here and now

How far should one go in the here and now to ensure (insofar as such things can be ensured) that the future is rosy (or rosier, rather)? Or is it wiser to have a rosy here and now (insofar as however rosy you can make it) and think about the future when it comes to here and now?

If one thinks of heaven and hell and such afterlife concepts, my personal answer does not require much thought. I am all for here and now, and if there do exist such places as god's and satan's abodes, I will consider them whence I have crossed the bridge between life and death. Also, even the idea of heaven and hell perhaps does exist in all mythologies and religions, but does not necessarily share the same relationship with death. Hinduism and Buddhism (which I anyway regard an off-shoot of Hinduism, and even more so, a refined rip-off from Jainism) talk about reincarnation and such, something that takes away the idea of eternal suffering in the lakes of fire in hell as satan's minions shove hot pokers up your backside (as in Christianity), or perpetual bliss cavorting carnally with the hoors in jannat (as in Islam, and it makes me wonder what it prescribes for women who go there).

Hinduism and Buddhism have their prescriptions of bad things to follow bad actions in a human life time, and they are not necessarily pleasant, but they at least remove the idea of eternity (which seems pretty ludicrous anyway), and also of association with guilt (this is strictly a crime of Christianity, referring to its favourite son as the sacrificial lamb of god. If any other religions use it as well, I do not know of it.). Also, in Hinduism, for instance, most of what you suffer for your bad actions happens to you in this earthly realm itself, though not necessarily in this life time.

And what about within the lifetime? You know, the idea of karma coming to bite you in the butt when you least expect it. As for me, I ALWAYS expect it, as a rule. It's like, if it weren't for bad luck, I would have had no luck at all, so screw karma. But hey, that's just me. In general, should we allow that fear to rob us of our small pleasures that we may get out of doing not entirely malign things? Or to prevent us from doing what we feel like doing because it feels right at this moment, even though it may upset some other people (which frankly, is their problem, not ours)? I mean, if the intent is simply to cause someone harm, then there could be grounds to argue against your proposed course of action, but if that is an unavoidable side effect of something that is seemingly good for you, should you not do it? Should it stop us from playing harmless pranks (that some morons always take too seriously)? Or from taking risks?

None of this negates the concept of planning simple things like saving this month so that you can take a holiday the next. And if you conflate such things with what I was saying above, then go away and don't bother coming back. Material things accumulate or deplete tangibly, and hence this discussion won't be required, because the results are visibly self evident. You behave thriftily and you have a pocketful to spend later (or if you are a miser, then a horde to look upon and foolishly smile about). You spend more than you earn and you find yourself in trouble (and if you do it regularly, you deserve to be begging naked on the streets). Unless of course, if you get robbed or are a robber yourself.

My stance is evident. Hedonism, here and now. Makes life simpler to live by drastically reducing the concept of morality. And intent, though useless entirely for most inter-personal relationship issues, is my bench mark for deciding right from wrong. About the only thing I mind is having lost the almost innate malice I harboured once (even if I didn't act on it always)...

Facial hair on women

I brandish my egalitarian temperament pretty often when I come in contact with feminist views. And then, sometimes, things happen that make me think about what my stance on things really is like. And in this instance, I am talking of hair, or rather, androgenic hair, to be specific. Should it not bother me if a woman is sporting the sprinkles of a moustache? And if it does, does it say I am not as egalitarian as I like to think?

So I dwelt a bit on the matter. The aspect of the natural process briefly... It is alright for some of the vellus to turn androgenic in women once post-menopausal levels of testosterone rise. They still ought not to turn into furry little (or big, as the case may be) things, but I suppose it makes certain amount of visible body hair on them a natural process that can't be much avoided. But that doesn't happen till they get to their mid-40s, not when they are 25.

Then of course, there is the cultural aspect. I know a strangely high number of men now who like to believe that women don't have any body hair, and act surprised and disgusted to find out that they indeed do. ALL of them are west European or American. I know women who spot some armpit hair on another woman and go "yetch". And these are not just west European or American women. It is expected of women, by men and women, to be almost entirely hairless beyond the head. I am not in that camp. Do what you will, it's all good, is what I say.

Which brings me to third aspect... the aesthetic. Of course, it is purely subjective (though in this case, there is overwhelming concurrence across our race in a particular direction, but I am not using the argument of the tyranny of the majority) and I have my own taste. In my own mind, the idea of facial hair is associated with my own sex, since I have been shaving it from my own face for years now. And so, for me, it forms a part of aesthetic qualities associated with males (though I don't have any opinion on men's looks, an attitude which once earned me the opinion of being insecure about my own sexuality, but that's a tale for another time).

All that said, I had never quite seen as many young women walking around anabashedly with facial hair as I have seen here in London. Without making a futile comparison between the pressure to look good in this city and say, Delhi, let us assume for simplicity's sake that it is the same in both cities (because I can't prove one way or the other, neither can anyone else, I think). So I began thinking why this was so. And I came up with two possible reasons.

One, blonde hair, or light coloured hair in general. Maybe some women confuse light coloured hair with it being invisible against their skin. Let me tell you, it is certainly not! And there are obviously more of those in London than in Delhi. Two, feminism. Maybe it is that twisted approach to attain their notion of equality that prompts certain women to not bother about it if they happen to grow a bit of a grizzly. And there are also more feminists here than perhaps all of India put together.

The call of conscience in dreamland

I wouldn't blame you if you thought I have somewhat of a fixation with dreams. So anyway, here is a brief, sanitised version of the dream that I woke up from in a state of considerable agitation.

In essence, everything was going wrong in my life and around it. I was beat, downbeat and beat up. Bad things were happening to my near and dear ones, sometimes with gruesome violence. And the few who escaped the 'carnage' were, for whatever reasons, inflicting great pain on me, my person, my mind and my soul. I was truly and wholly abandoned and forsaken, with copious amounts of venom especially and pointedly directed at me. In my dream, as I flitted from one place in my life to another - trying to keep something, anything, in my life being utterly destroyed, or destructive - I wondered why it was happening.

And in the dream itself, as bits of consciousness floated into it, I figured it may be my conscience (or my mind, or my heart, or my whatever the fuck else) trying to tell me to stop being such an arsehole in general, to fix my idea of morals, to appreciate human beings more, to actively cherish and value the people in my life, to stop hoping for bad things to happen to others and the world, etc and blah. In short, something in me trying to scare me (or if you like to put it another way, to warn me of the error of my ways).

I won't lie, so I won't say that I didn't care about the dream. As I said, I woke up pretty agitated. A piss and a glass of water later, I was calm and pensive. A couple of minutes of thought, and thank you very much, but I am alright the way I am.

Pre-conception sex determination

Researchers sure do end up doing all kinds of researches, and they don't always start out doing the same ones. Anyway, a Dr Fiona Mathews from the University of Exeter has shown a link between a women's level of calorie intake a few weeks before, and a couple of few weeks after, conception, and the sex of the baby born. Higher calorie intake has been linked to boys being born, and dieting has been given as a probable cause of the fall in male birth rates in industrialised (read developed) countries. The inverse could be true too then, with malnourishment leading to more girls being born in poorer countries, where the traditional emphasis and desire is usually for a male child anyway, making a sort of vicious circle. So if you are looking for a baby boy, force feed the mother. For a girl, oh well, save on the food bills!

Other than the implications on sex ratios, of at least as much importance is the impact on the scientific understanding of the process of conception and its link to sex determination. Till now, we always thought that the sex of the foetus was decided by whichever chromosome, X or Y, from the sperm fused with the ovarian egg. In effect, the father decided (though completely beyond his own control) the sex of the baby the mother would bear. But now, for the first time, there is evidence to show that somehow, the mother influences it too, without having to do anything with the 23rd set of chromosomes. Science always does leap ahead of itself, doesn't it?

To steer this in a slightly controversial territory, as I am wanton to. Thinking in terms of biological evolution, or rather, the process of natural selection, this certainly could speak volumes. Healthier food = boy, not so healthy food = girl. You can't argue with the course of nature now, can you? And yet, and yet, I am a proponent of egalitarianism, but now, with a heightened dislike for those who had rather use the label of feminist.

Beat up your kids

Well, I really wonder how many of my present bunch of readers are even married, let alone have a kid (not that you have to be married to have a kid). So the topic of this post doesn't really apply as an instruction, but anyway...

Were you ever hit by your folks when you were a kid? Has it scarred you for life, or has there been no love lost? I have heard arguments trying to convince me that beating your kids amounts to abusing them and violating their 'rights'. And for one reason or the other, I never do get convinced enough to be called convinced. What I wonder is how often people use the word 'abuse' instead of 'use'. If you take a foul tasting medicine to get rid of your affliction, it amounts to use; it can't be termed 'abuse' only because it tastes like shit. (That, by the way, is an expression people should not use lightly, for how many of you actually know what shit actually tastes like? And don't ask me that question, because you don't want to know the answer.)

Violence, like pretty much everything else, can be used or abused. Hell, even love can be abused, and quite often is. Unless you have mental issues (or a kinky fetish), you probably don't enjoy beating up anyone, let alone your kids. You hurt your kid when you feel it is indeed the best action to take. And if you make an error of judgement more than a couple of times in this aspect, then you had no business having a kid, or the right to vote, for that matter. You are a numskull who might as well die, the world will be better off without you. The last thing we need is the government having to create legislation about how to parent, because of morons like you.

And I am ABSOLUTELY convinced that if there was a little more physical disciplining of kids, we would have much fewer punk-ass teenagers creating trouble for all and sundry wherever they go. Which reminds me that earlier in the day, I was in a bus on my way home, when two pieces of white trash chav meat walked in, complete with a dog each. After a while, one of those dogs shat. Right there on the bus floor. The driver refused to go further till they cleaned it up. Those trash-heads argued with each other, laughed, passed the buck and then went away, leaving the shit intact, the bus stinking and the driver fuming. If they had only been beaten a little by their parents, they probably never would have ended up as chavs in the first place, and would definitely have the self-discipline to behave responsibly.

Oh, there was this girl in the bus who had a very happy face, with a smile on most of the time. It was an unusual sight in this city's public transport where most faces are set grim.

And yes, I know I did not venture in to the children's rights territory and its defilement by beating them. But that is only because I think they shouldn't have any rights in the first place. This whole business of rights and their widespread dissemination that is touted as one of the achievements of 'progress' has probably done a lot more harm to the world than good. Fuck 'progress', long live the poor dead Neanderthal.

Changing faces of climate, Nazis & sexuality

I was just woken up early on a Sunday morning (7:30 is early for a Sunday) by a phone call from Goa where it is obviously sunny, and I was told about a chocolate mousse tan. I sleepily looked out of my own window here in London, and it is snowing like I have never seen here before! And this is the 6th of April, we are more than two weeks into official spring. All winter went by with not a single flake of snow appearing anywhere, and now? The snowfall doesn't even show the slightest sign of letting up! We truly have fucked things up with the climate. I do not know how much the weather cycles have been affected in the developing or under-developed countries, but I certainly do hope that these developed countries suffer more of the wrath of this global screw up they have caused. Only fair, I like to think, even though it does make living here unpleasant. Like one needed more reasons to make it unpleasant here. I mean, the kids on the streets alone are quite enough... I really don't think I have ever even heard of a worse generation of youngsters who are empowered with unreasonable rights that they regularly abuse without any sense of responsibility. They should all be rounded up and put in Auschwitz or some such, if you ask me, and oh, they should be sterilised before that so that the vermin don't spread. As it is, it seems like so many 15-16 year olds are getting knocked up in this place all the time.

Anyway, nasty road to go down way too early in the morning, when the world outside my window is covered in a serene soft white layer. For the record, for those who think that each snow flake is unique is... well, there are actually about 80 different kinds.

For those of you who don't know who Max Mosley is, he is the (maybe outgoing) president of FIA, the body that governs motor racing worldwide. And he is currently in the soup, since a tabloid earlier this week published reports of his bedroom antics, which included some (or maybe considerable, who cares?) Nazi role playing. The matter gathers more gravity because his father was the founder of the British Union of Fascists, and Adolf attended his parents' wedding in person. So his Nazi role playing with hookers in the privacy of his room has prompted calls for his immediate resignation, he could not be present for this weekend's F1 race at Bahrain, and he is being criticised from left, right and centre, by auto companies and F1 drivers, among others.

Now I have some serious issues with this whole deal. Why does what a person does in his bedroom reflect on what he does in the boardroom? I mean, he is not bringing the hookers to work with him, neither does he ask any F1 driver to give him the Nazi salute. So long as he does his job well, why should the public knowledge of his sexual fetishes reflect poorly on his professionalism? By extension then, all people who indulge in, for instance, bondage and domination as a part of their sexual activities should be fired from their jobs. And what are we then to do with women who harbour rape fantasies? Yes, such women do exist. It is only a fantasy, so you can stop raising your eye brows. Anyway, so should they be fired as well? Max did not commit any crime, so why should he be punished? And if someone regards having a Nazi role playing fetish as a crime, I have no sympathy for them. I mean, on another note, I have heard a few Europeans saying (rarely openly obviously) that people need to get over colonialism because it happened long ago. Funny how the same thing doesn't apply to the Holocaust. Anyway, I will let that be for another time. For now, I hope Mr Mosley sues the pants off the nosy intrusive tabloid all the way to bankruptcy. Come on, aren't there more important things around that those in charge of these arse-wipes should be fussing over?

To end on a more pleasant (though infinitely more complicated) note however, the first pregnant man has arrived. Born a girl, Thomas Beatie had a sex change, got married to a woman, sports a beard (not a very good one, in my opinion) and is now pregnant, because he never had his womanly reproductive organs removed. So now, because his wife doesn't have a womb any more, he was artificially inseminated and will produce a baby girl in about three months. This opens a whole new chapter in the field of sexuality and gender studies, despite stupid comments from some media persons (they just "happened" to be women, I suppose) who want this to become a 'trend' that 'catches on' across the world. What I was wondering was, will Thomas lactate?

For the record, it is still snowing.

A bit of this, a butt of that, etc

Again a much longer gap than I would like there to be. But no use bitching about it, rather, get straight down to it.

So I am beginning to get back on track in life. Debts are being steadily (yet too slowly for my liking) paid off. There are people to meet and the social life (though a bit repetitive) is in its place. There are things to do, the latest being rowing classes. But more than anything else, the mind is working on, thinking of sometimes interesting thoughts and otherwise, trying to be ambitious. The complacency and lethargy of comfortable mediocre monotony is wearing off.

So what has transpired in the interim? On the surface, an uncalled for day off from work which I don't feel bad or irresponsible about. It is only work, after all, and it isn't such a bad idea to take some time off from having your mojo sucked out by corporate parasites. Still on the surface, another night of a drug binge which I don't want to repeat for the next month or so. Not because I didn't enjoy it, but because I can't afford it, and it is only drugs, after all and I am no addict.

I went for a very interesting exhibition, titled 'Sleeping and Dreaming'. Considering I have my own set of vivid dreams, bordering on lucidity, I had a great time, and learnt some interesting things. For instance, one of the few benefits of sleep that we know for a fact is that it helps recharge our immune system. Physical rest can be achieved without sleeping too, simply by lying down, and as for mental rest, the mind is 90% as active in sleeping state as it is when we are awake. Of course, there was much to be said in that exhibit about dreams as well. For instance, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, among many other works of literature, art, music and even scientific breakthroughs, was conceived in a dream.

That set me off on my own tangent about dream state inducing hallucinogenic drugs and the role the resulting "visions" played in many ancient religious rituals, especially those involving finding solutions to problems or foretelling the future. I never did give his much thought, but I am sure the link exists. I think I will go visit some shamans in the Amazon forests sometime, and find out first hand. And now that I have said it, I can't wait! Well, I suppose that will happen next year at the earliest.

After a gap of a few months, I have again recently dished out advice to people, or friends, to be specific. I thought I would be a bit rusty, but it felt natural dispensing advice about housing, relationship blues and financial trouble (to different people, thankfully for the people concerned). Maybe I should start looking into becoming a professional adviser? And once again, as my interactions with people have increased (or maybe their quality has changed), I have become privy to personal information that cannot possibly benefit me (unless I do something nefarious) and only increases the pressure on my tongue to rattle it off. I suppose this is where my loathing of gossiping comes in handy. But it still feels to strange to know things that I have little business knowing.

Anyway, hunger beckons. So I will post after another gap, hopefully a rather short one.

Violent streaks

I suppose it is only natural, given my persona and nature, that I have been dwelling on violence since the 'incident' on Saturday night. I have been thinking on many tangents and some of them are the violence I have inflicted; the violence that has been inflicted on me; peoples' take on violence; pacifism; and random violent aggressive behaviour. And I am not talking about violence aimed at the system (where the individual is an 'incidental casualty') but rather about violence directed specifically at the individual.

I have never been a fan of mindless violence, but that by no means implies that I think violence is categorically wrong. I have indulged in violence on occasion, and the last one was just a little over two years ago, where I was trying to strangle an auto-rickshaw driver in Delhi. And that incident came after a five year gap. Oh well, I have the dubious distinction of having been charged with attempt to murder when I was 17 and still in school. Even though the charge was ridiculously far-fetched and completely made up, it had been a particularly violent night. I have even been violent towards women, a fact that I am not proud of, but not something I am ashamed of either (there are exceptions though, of which I am ashamed, but not as much any more as I used to be). And just so you know, I have even been hit by women, and I haven't always responded, despite my whole-hearted support of vengeance.

I do not think that violence is always caused by a break-down of rationality, as I have sometimes been told. I do not think that violence should never even be the last resort. There are often many ways of dealing with a given situation, and I tend to remember that violence is one of them. I have indulged in what I term 'unjust' violence once in my life, and I am not proud of it. But if someone tells me all violence is unjust, I disagree strongly. Violence is a part of nature, it is all around. Animals of prey live off it, many others use it to guard their homes and still others indulge in it even for play. Just because we humans have tended towards keeping it out of the public eye doesn't mean that it is unnatural. Of course, just because it is natural does not mean that we have to indulge in it, and I am not advocating any such thing. I am just saying that it is not necessarily wrong; that social or rational or human or whatever else is not the nemesis of violence.

Violence does not necessarily sour relations between parents and their children. Violence is different from abuse of violence, it is not abusive by definition. I would perhaps be a more truant kid if I hadn't got the occasional thwack from my dad, it even got pretty bad sometimes as I recall, and I bear him no grudge for them. If anything, he is the only person I look up to. And trust me, I know a LOT about abuse of violence. I had to put up with a shit load of it later in life. I have been beaten up more than most of you would like to believe, or even hear about. Of course, that still hasn't made a disturbed person (though I am sure some of you would argue that I am pretty disturbed anyway. Well, in all humility, and I say this with my warmest smile, fuck off). I know at least one person (you know who you are) who insists that my abuse has affected me greatly and that I am in denial. Well, people really need to start thinking lesser for others. Anyway, the place where I was subjected to that mindless violence on a more or less regular basis for about two years, I spent a total of seven years in that school, and they are among the best years of my life. If I could live them again, I probably would.

I have discussed violence with others a few times, and as if bringing up the topic wasn't bad enough already, I have been met with derision when I have tried to say things in its favour. That does not necessarily mean that those people are pacifists, but I know a few, and it is not a word I use easily. A pacifist is how I would describe a Bengali if I wanted to be racist. After all, they are the only state in India that does not have a regiment of its own in the Army. (Of course, that is hilarious given the fact that the Indian National Army was founded by Subhash Chandra Bose, himself a Bengali.) In the same way people talk down violence, I like to talk down pacifism. Pacifism is at the other extreme from abuse of violence. Anyone indulging in either is being as ridiculous, in my point of view, since they are both extreme stances.

Random violent aggression, or abuse of violence, should be matched with violence. A rapist should have his dick chopped off and be made to eat it while getting an anal probe with a hot iron. I am all for the death penalty, in spite of the complications that errors in human judgement might produce. I even support "mob justice" to quite an extent, where I think the margin for error is usually the same as that in a court room. I find it amusing the way retaliatory violence is often referred to as 'taking the law in your own hands'. If the law cannot protect me against it in the first place, it has already come within my personal domain. So I might as well use my own hands.

Anyway, hunger beckons. So I go and prepare some dinner. But before I leave, I recall just the poem for this post. I wrote it one morning when I woke up, wrote this down and went back to sleep, in less than five minutes. Its called 'Cold Rage'.

Everything turns to red
The fingers clench
Knuckles turn pale white
Muscles tighten instinctively
Adrenaline flow begins
Steam on the brow
Black curtain descending
The brain goes numb
Remorselessness sets in
The smell of revenge, sweet, ain't it sweet
Anything goes
Everything is fair
Swift movements
High accuracy rate
Surveying the destruction
The stone in those eyes
Cold Rage

Something to write home about

This weekend that is going by has been rather strange, and has left me with a feeling that makes me want to believe a little more in the role that positions of stars in the sky play in my life. Actually, I am not too sure what I feel. So here is what happened.

Memory losses are not cool. After my adventure a couple of months ago where I spent 5 hours traveling in the London underground network, I did a sort of repeat performance. Only, this one was a bit worse. We were at this party on Friday night, and I remember having a pretty good time till about 4:00am. After that, I am not quite sure about what kind of a time I had, because I don't remember any of it. My good friend who was by my side all this time tells me that at about 4:30am, I had called a cab for a couple of girls, helped another drunk girl leave, and taken 20 minutes to roll a huge joint, and just given it to him to smoke while I vanished somewhere. So he and me left at 5:30 or so, and after walking around for another half hour, he got a a call on his phone, and when he hung up 2 minutes later, I had vanished. I had "done a Batman", as he calls it. He called me, and I told him he had been walking in the wrong direction, and that I had no idea where I myself was at the moment, and that I will figure it out later.

So he went his way, I went somewhere, I have no idea where. This is close to 6:00am. At 10:16am, I awoke on the DLR, the only tube line that runs to my stop. But of course, I was on a station completely outside my route. Everything was looking so damn hazy, and then I realised at some point that my glasses were absent from their usual place on my face. There is also a memory somewhere of a stumble climbing up a flight of steps, which later revealed itself in the form of a nasty bruise on my left knee, and a less nasty but infinitely more visible one just above my left eyebrow. But there isn't much more I recall, other than finally crawling into bed around 11:30am.

So I hurt myself and lost my glasses and a few hours worth of memory. I hoped the glasses had been left at the party venue, so I called the host and asked him to look out. He called a while later saying my glasses were safe on his kitchen table. I dragged my weary body back to his place around 7:00pm, only to discover that the glasses in question are in fact not mine, but some other jerk's. Very possible he left his and took mine, very possible that he left his and I lost mine. So anyway, I go to another friend's house, the same one who I had inexplicably deserted in the wee hours of the morning. We eat dinner and are in the middle of watching Sweeney Todd when another friend calls, at about 2:00am.

We are to meet him at the bus stop in 10 minutes, and the 3 of us are to go to the house of a 4th who is asleep and will have to be woken up so that we can have a place to chill. Anyway, 3 of us are at the stop, right outside Victoria station, waiting for the bus. There is a nightclub 50m away and a drunkard is thrown out by the bouncers. The usual screaming and empty threats follow, while the drunkard's friends are pissed off with him and are walking away. We had stopped enjoying the show and were chatting among ourselves, smoking our cigarettes. The drunkard was now walking away from the bouncers, walking in the same direction as his friends, who had just walked by us. He was screaming "I win, I win" and it was coming nearer, so I turned my face to look in his direction.

He was less than 2ft away, his arm already raised, fist closed in a punch, already moving towards my face. And sure enough, it made contact, hit me hard, fucking hard, on the left of my face. And he made a run for it. After a 2-second shock recovery time, I began running after him but was stopped by my friends one of who proceeded to tell me that catching that arsehole and beating the crap out of him was not worth the effort. If only the 4th friend, the one whose house we were going to, had been there, things would have been nicely different. We would have probably killed that fucker.

On Friday, as I was leaving work, my boss told me to not party too hard, and I had said "why not?" in response and left. On Saturday evening, I had been talking of drunken rowdiness being a nuisance in this country, and there it was. Just an hour before going to the bus stop, at the beginning of Sweeney Todd, I was extolling the virtue of vengeance, and I did jack-shit. But one thing is for sure, I am sick and fucking tired of this whole memory black-out business. And I am pissed off, so fucking pissed off. Life is not a fucking bed of roses anyway, and I really can do without the random fucking punch from some drunk white trash piece of shit. Maybe I should start carrying that knife...

A looming visage

The spectre of a working life is returning soon to haunt me again. And I am awaiting it with arms wide open and legs akimbo. I know I won't like it but I will like it more than doing nothing, which is mostly what I have been doing for an irresponsibly significant amount of time now. But Monday morning blues promise to wash away the juvenile days with daft ripples of endless monotony. I can't really complain since its nothing like the end of my age of innocence or some such, but merely the need of the hour, whose actualisation has taken long, much too long.

Ah, its easy to imagine the frustration I will feel, right down to my bones, in much the same way as the homeless feel the chill in the winter months. But I need to feel that frustration if I plan to actually pursue my own designs seriously. There is no way I can do a PhD right now because I don't have the drive for it. But given the frustration of a 2-3 years of work, I think I will be quite ready to jump in to it. After all, that's how I came around to do my MA!

But of course, I do not take away from the fact that it will bring in some much needed moolah. And that is one thing I really need right now. Feels like I have been broke for ever! Neither do I mind having something to do with my time which usually tends to keep the more dangerous variety of madness at bay. Though I am not too sure if working will also provide anything much to do with my mind, but I can find other avenues for that.

So here is one to the return of 9-5! (Its more like 6:30-3 in my case. Yes, 6 fucking 30am!)

Some may call them nightmares...

... but I will just refer to them as plain good ol' dreams. Not that good, is all. They are about death; my own. And as is often the case with my dreams, they are vivid, colourful, and the kind that stay in the conscious memory after the sleep is over. Well, I do not necessarily recall them in their entirety upon waking, but retain significant fragments.

Four different scenarios for your morbid reading pleasure.

1. I am on my way home, quite close to it in fact, when I notice the laser marker of a sniper on me. I duck and run etc but I am shot in the back of my head the moment I step foot through the gate of the house. And I fall dead.

2. Sort of a bizarre continuation of the same scene. Only, I am through the gate now, alive again. A girl jumps out from behind a pillar, opens her coat most provocatively, to reveal, instead of her naked glory, explosives strapped to herself, which she promptly blows up, sending tiny bits of me (and I suppose her too) to rain all over my front lawn.

3. I am standing on the edge of a cliff, taking in the view. The ground beneath me just gives way and with that cursed piece of earth, I fall to my death below.

4. I don't even know where I am, but there is one fucking crazy sand-storm suddenly, and before I have time to complain about the sand stinging my eyes and blinding me and bruising every exposed part of my body, I am buried. Entirely.

When I die in the dream, the dream just turns to black, to nothing, to no dream I guess. And its not a slow fade in, but a rather abrupt cut.

I am aware that there are many different ways of reading and interpreting different elements in dreams, but I am not sure of their actual applicability in any given case. All the same, if someone could pinpoint exactly what the fuck in my brain is giving rise to these dreams, I would be quite amused, to say the least. But I am quite content with just enjoying my dreams as they come and to have a good night's sleep!

शुभ रात्री (good night)

Spreading the mother-tongue

I have to admit I never really thought I would do something like teach Hindi, for money at that, and I am talking real good money here. And to be precise, I am not doing it yet. But I am supposed to start soon. With all due respect to the moolah, what really gets my goat about this proposition is that there are actually people wanting to pay all this money to learn Hindi. And I have been told by my future employer that these people are basically big companies. We are talking real big companies here, the likes of Bloomberg, Shell, the Blackstone Group, and such. I don't know what they are doing learning Hindi, but it does make me feel good to see that they are doing it. And not just because I am going to gain financially from it.

Anyway, when I went for the job interview yesterday, I felt compelled to shave my almost 4 week old beard. Its a shame that I couldn't keep it till tomorrow, when I have my visa application. I had been told by all and sundry that I should shave it before the visa application, lest I be taken for a Muslim in general, or a terrorist, to be more specific. And I really wanted to try that out, to see exactly how fucking stereotyping and stupid the authorities here can be. Maybe I would have been pleasantly surprised, or maybe I would have been forced to buy a really expensive ticket back home. But too late to find out one way or the other now. Damnit.

Anyway, since I am going to be teaching Hindi soon, it is tempting to write a few posts in Hindi. Perhaps the next one, since I have to retire for my flatmate's birthday celebrations at the moment.

Nano Democracy

Following much speculation, nay-saying, high hopes, and the usual media frenzy, Tata Motors launched its promised Rs 1,00,000 car yesterday. Of course, its a BIG deal, its positively HUGE, even as the car itself is quite small. To read more about its technical aspects, go elsewhere. Here, I am talking of its democratic value. Yes, you read d-e-m-o-c-r-a-t-i-c v-a-l-u-e.

As happens with these things, there are two camps, one the "capitalists" with their tirade of entrepreneurship and free trade and such, and the other which encompasses everyone else from the city planners to environmentalists to the villagers from Singur who are protesting against the acquisition of their land for conversion to factory premises. I have yet to fathom the reason why this second camp usually gets the polite label of "those commie bastards" by those in the first camp.

Personally speaking, I am above such petty squabbling. What occurs to me is the fact that till now, driving four-wheelers was a prerogative of the rich, and that promises to change. Till now, it was only the Sanjeev Nandas in the BMWs and the Salman Khans in the Land Cruisers who had the option of being drunk (or maybe inebriation is not so important, I don't know) and driving over not just the roads but also some people who happened to be in the way. But with the coming of the Nano, running over the homeless is no longer a luxury that is meant only for the rich in expensive cars. In fact, maybe the rich folk should start watching out when crossing the street or some such, you never know which Nano is round the corner, waiting to showcase the true power of democracy that technology, especially cheap technology, brings.

Not to forget the mention of the proverbial backseat. Young middle class couples going out on the sly can now have the luxury of their own backseat (even if it is a little cramped for space) and do not have to find a lonely spot in a public park after dusk. Youtube (well, not Youtube, but the relevant websites for such videos) should watch out for the oncoming deluge of mobile-phone videos shot by couples in India while they indulge in carnality in the comfort of their very own Nano. Democratic technology contributing to further democratic technology. Pretty little chain.

So go on and buy a Nano if you can. The EMI's are pretty handy at about Rs 2000 (or about GBP 25) over 5 years, find some rich fuckers to mow down while you hump away in the backseat, all the while humming the sweet tune of true democracy!!

Stupid Spice

The idea was to watch a film. So I was at the venue, which once again happened to be O2, the site of my Led Zeppelin letdown. On the way, in the tube, I happened to notice an unusually high number of females heading in the same direction, and even getting off at the same stop. The scenario was the same outside. I ascribed it to the usual Friday night inanity that consumes this city. But it struck me as very odd, the number of girls singing the very same fucking shitty songs that I recalled as belonging to those 2-penny whores otherwise known as Spice Girls. And then to my horror, I realised that the venue was also playing host to their concert, and was hence deluged by numerous wanna-be 2-penny whores. No doubt, some of them made for a pretty sight, (un)dressed as some of them were, but I dare not go too close to any of them for the fear of being infected by stupidity. I was also struck by the heartrending realisation that I had been as close to a Led Zep concert as I had been to one of Spice Girls. Made me want to take a shower immediately, and scrub myself till the sin was washed away.

Oh, for the record, the film (Taare Zameen Par) itself was excellent. One of the best Bollywood productions I have seen. A very well done take on the pressures to excel that Indian parents put on their children, done through the angle of dyslexia. Of course, I have my own reservations about hiding behind the veneer of dyslexia to hide laziness etc, in much the same way as can be said about something like ADD. For reference, you may want to see the South Park episode where Cartman fools around a fuck-load in the name of ADD.

Stupidity is a dangerous thing to be in contact with. If you want to communicate with a moron, it becomes incumbent upon you to lower your IQ to the point where communication becomes possible. You need to "stoop" to her/his level to make them understand. Which is why I feel that the foolish person always wins. That is what makes stupidity contagious, and hence dangerous.

But then again, I often wonder about intelligence and its merits. I mean, most of the happy people I know are, well, kinda stupid. To some extent, its perhaps the idea of ignorance being bliss. But I have also noticed the streak of 'intelligent' people to overly complicate things, and life in general, and thereby always finding ways to be unhappy about something or the other. And seeing that I always proclaim happiness to be the aim of life... I wonder if I should try and turn stupid. It can't be that difficult now, can it? Damn, I missed the Spice Girls!